


Things Forgotten

by LiteratiGeek



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Hate to Love, Missing Scene, Pillow Talk, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:31:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 16,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6643330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteratiGeek/pseuds/LiteratiGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Hirst forgot a lot. He forgot a lot that happened between Rollo and Gisla. Their relationship was beautiful, it just wasn't shown enough. Gaps left things undetermined. Jumps made things not seem completely stable. Due to wonderful encouragement from others in this fandom, have I decided to attempt to take on the things that Hirst forgot to show us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Good Treason - Feast Scene

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place shortly after the last scene of 3x10, before the wedding in 4x01. A first dinner so everyone can get to know one another! Could I have made this less comical? No. No I couldn't. 
> 
> I think my one complaint with my own writing is I didn't explain Rollo's actions enough, Clive did wonderful things with his face this season, I'm hoping to get better at this. I got kinda lost in Sinric. (But as we know, eventually he'll leave.)
> 
> (I went back and forth on using the modern word "bug" but Hirst used Boyfriend, so I can use "bug".)

“How great it is, that we might all come together now, is it not?” The emperor was seated at the head of the table. To his left his daughter, slouched in her chair with her fingers running a ring about the base of her chalice. To his right sat the viking warrior who was to marry the princess, and next to him the odd man who spoke both their languages. Count Odo sat on the other side of the princess, sipping from his own glass.

The warrior leaned towards the man at his side, they exchange words before the smaller man leaned forward to address the emperor. He opened his mouth but then stopped himself.

Charles gave a small smile and raised his hand, “Speak freely.” He assured him. Sinric gave a gracious nod of his head and finally spoke.

“Your highness, Rollo would like to agree. And thank you for extending your invitation that we might feast with you.” Sinric focused his attention across the table, “He would also like to say that the princess looks very beautiful this evening.” The translator finished the speech with another bow of his head before sitting back.

The princess merely glared across the table. Emperor Charles’ smile faltered as he looked from their guests to the princess, “Daughter.” He spoke up, a forceful tone behind his smile.

Gisla raised her gaze towards her father before looking across the table to her betrothed, “Thank you.” She replied with a scowl of a forced smile. The count beside her smirked to himself as he looked on.

“I would wish to get to know…forgive me, by what might I address you?” Emperor Charles questioned, motioning to Rollo. Sinric’s mouth opened in a silent O, for he knew the answer already but consulted with the viking first before informing the emperor.

“He…” Sinric motioned to Rollo, “says that Rollo is fine. He has no title…” A nervous smile crept on the man’s features, “as of yet, of course.”

“Forgive me, is he not the brother of your king?” Emperor Charles questioned, his brow creasing in concern.

“Not only have you married me to a savage, but a common one.” Gisla noted, raising her glass to her lips. Count Odo next to her chuckled quietly, raising his napkin to cover his own mouth. The two foreigners spoke to one another, paying no mind to the princess’ comment, or the counts reaction. The emperor, however, struck his daughter with a pointed glare.

“Yes, his brother is the king, your highness.” Sinric finally spoke up, attempting at first to look over Rollo’s head, but finding it too difficult he settled for leaning forward over the table once more. “Yet, to his people it means very little of him…his brother himself was an earl before he became king, ah…like a duke in your own kingdom, and a farmer like their parents before that.” This received a snort of a reply from the princess. “However, he would like to assure the emperor…he found his fame as a warrior on the field of battle. You are not the first king to seek his allegiance based on his skill alone. “

“Ah…” Charles replied with a smile, turning to give a nod to Count Odo who raised an unimpressed brow before taking another sip from his chalice.

“So, he is the most barbaric of the savages?” Princess Gisla questioned the translator, “I suppose I should be grateful.” She added, looking to her father, “At least I know that when he kills me, he will do so quickly.”

“Daughter…” Her father repeated with a sigh.

“He has already attempted to do so!” The princess insisted.  Count Odo’s indifferent expression faded, just as the emperor’s features stiffened. He looked to the guests once more.

“Has he?” The emperor questioned. Quickly, the guests conferred with one another before both looked to the emperor, having reached a conclusion.

“Rollo, admits…that this is true…it was during the battle of the first attempt to attack Paris by his people.” Sinric explained, “For you see, your highness, he explains that he and his brother believed that your daughter was the one who was in command of the army, for she seemed to be doing a better job than him…” At this, he kept his gaze on the emperor but motioned to the count across from him. The count did not seem to appreciate this, “They believed that if they were to kill her, the soldiers would feel just as much loss as they had encouragement from her command.”

The count looked as though he wished to voice a complaint of this assessment of the battle. The emperor looked satisfied enough and looked to his daughter in wait of her reply. However, the translator had more to say.

“He says that, although it is true he intended to kill the princess, he was stopped; not by the soldiers but by the sight of the princess. Her beauty transfixed him so that he was distracted from battle and thrown from the wall.” Perhaps the translator exaggerated a bit in his explanation from what the Viking had told him, but the sentiment was the same. The viking himself was chancing a look to the princess across from him, his head bowed so that he might look at her from beneath his brow.

“And therefore if I were ugly, he would have killed me?” Gisla questioned, raising a brow as she remained unimpressed by the explanation.  After a pause, a careful glance to the man to his side, Sinric added.

“Rollo would like to assure the princess that now that they are on the same side, she need not believe he intends to kill her.”

“And how can we be so sure that that is true?” Princess Gisla replied, “Who is to know what he will do once we are alone together?”

“Likely nothing worse than what any other husband would do to his wife,” Emperor Charles replied, taking a sip from his cup. His daughter returned his sentiment with a glare, “All the same, Count Odo…”

“Yes, your highness?” The count replied.

“I would like a specialty guard assigned to my daughter, to be with her at all times.” Emperor Charles noted, motioning for the servant to begin serving from the trays of food.

“Father!” Princess Gisla protested.

“Except when she is, of course, getting dressed,” he continued, perhaps believing this to be the concern of his daughter. “But she is not to be alone, and a guard to placed outside her chambers at all time. Additionally, a member of her retinue, of her choosing, is to sleep in her chambers once more.”

“I do not believe such cautions will be able to stop this beast! They serve merely to obstruct my daily routine and little privacy I am already granted.” The princess insisted.

“They are not for your protection from him, for that I do not worry. If he is to kill you, he will forfeit the treaty and receive nothing from it. But you have said it yourself, daughter. You would kill yourself…for the sake of Paris. Who knows what you will do for your own selfish sake.”

There was a pause as the emperor’s decree hung in the air. Count Odo assured the emperor he would get to work with the preparations. The viking quietly questioned his translator. The princess glared across the table, as if it were the guest’s fault and not her father’s.

“Might I be excused?” Princess finally asked.

“No.” Her father replied without pause as he looked over the food before him. The priest had already blessed the table by giving grace some time before, when the trays of food had been placed before them.  “Please, everyone…” The emperor motioned to the food before them before taking his first bite.

Silence fell among the table for some time. The emperor ate, his eyes watching those before him. Count Odo ate contently. Princess Gisla refused to touch her food. The two guests pick and prodded at what they had been given, speaking in a low tone between them. After some time the translator spoke up.

“Rollo says that the bugs are not as disgusting as he believed they would be.”

There was a huff from the translator after a shove was given from the viking; this comment seemed to have been intended to be shared in private.

 


	2. A Good Treason - Extended Wedding Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene goes after the Wedding Night scene, basically "What Gisla did after Rollo went to sleep". 
> 
> Cause seriously we just left her sitting there glaring at him with a knife.
> 
> This is a little selfish indulgence cause I like it paralleling the move he pulls when they finally consummate the marriage.

She tentatively placed her hand upon his shoulder, and then not so tentatively shoved it. Her husband gave a grunt but did not wake. She sighed and sat back on her feet behind her. He was asleep. For a moment, she felt insulted. Was she not beautiful enough for him to force himself upon her? She quickly forgot those fleeting thoughts and moved into action.

Princess Gisla scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up, holding her knife so that it would be hidden up her sleeve. She carried her arm behind her as she made her way out of the chambers and into the corridor. She silently passed the stationed guard and continued to the stairs, but was caught by an unsuspected crowd. Count Odo stepped forward first, Roland in his shadow. The party that had been in the chambers to begin with must not have travelled far after being thrown out by her husband.

“Princess, we did not expect you so soon.” There was a chuckle hidden in Count Odo’s tone.

“He is asleep.” Gisla replied, wishing to take a step around him but her path was blocked as the man sidestepped in front of her.

“Already? Allow me to congratulate you.” Count Odo replied in the same tone as before.

“The marriage is not consummated. Would you please excuse me, Count Odo.”

“I am sorry to hear, but where are you going, Princess?” The man asked, his brow creasing.

“My chambers,” The princess replied as if that should have been obvious.

“Princess…those are your chambers now.”  Count Odo replied, motioning to the door she had just walked through. Gisla looked over her shoulder and then back to him.

“You expect me to sleep in the same room as him?”

“He is your husband.”

“By law alone! Not yet in the eyes of God!” The princess’ voice rose, threatening to echo all the way down to the emperor’s chambers.

“All the same, you must live with him.” He seemed to be forcing a pained expression as he spoke. Gisla refused to move, she merely glared. Count Odo took a deep breath and motioned behind him, fingers touching the back of Roland’s elbow as if to pull him forward.

“I am going!” Gisla snapped, knowing what the count intended his young protégée to do. She would not be carried like a hog again. She turned and stomped her slippered feet with each step, eventually slamming the wooden door behind her. Even that did not wake her husband.

The sun had started its decent casting long shadows from the windows across the room. Gisla let out a breath. She would not share a bed with him. She placed her knife on the larger settee at the foot of the bed before she began pushing the structure to the other side of the room. She walked back and did the same to the other so it would face it’s twin, the set now sat as far away from the bed as she could manage. She walked back and pulled the pillow from under her husband’s feet, sniffing it she decided to use the other side as she walked back to her make shift bed.

She placed the knife on the floor, settled her pillow and then laid between the settee set with her knees curled to her chest. Her intention was no to sleep, but to pass the time until they would allow her to leave the room. Eventually, her own exhaustion betrayed her. She drifted to sleep without even realizing she was doing so, and did not wake again until she felt her body moving.

She opened her eyes to find her husband above her, and herself above the floor. He held one arm under her shoulders, the other under her knees as he carried her. There was a fleeting moment as this registered to Gisla before she reacted. Her legs kicked out, her back curved as she tried to will herself out of his grip. Her husband responded by pulling her closer to his bare chest.

“How dare you!” Gisla shouted as she continued with her flailing. “Put me down! Let go of me!” She shouted, feeling the back of her hand make contact with his chest. She pulled it away as if he were a flame. For a few moments, she fought, until she was unceremoniously dropped onto the bed. She gasped again and looked up at him; he did not move over her but turned around and walked back to her makeshift bed.  He tossed her pillow to her, hitting her in the stomach. She hardly reacted, her gaze was affixed on her husband, but her arms did wrap around the pillow as if it would grant her protection.

He returned to the bed, but merely placed her knife on the table near her beside the bed. He gave her a look before turning again and walking back, this time grabbing his own pillow from the foot of the bed. He flopped down on the settee set, causing the wood to creak under him and appeared to go back to sleep.

Gisla remained, unmoving for a time as she watched him, her brow creasing.  Eventually, she fell asleep again, having not yet figured out the reason behind a single action her husband had conducted that evening.

 

 


	3. A Good Treason - Extended Ambush

The princess’ footsteps halted for just a moment before she continued to the table. She took her seat, glancing about the table as if looking for something. Her husband was not there. She tried to hide the smile that the realization caused.

“The table is much less crowded this evening.” Gisla noted.

“Yes, your husband will not be joining us. He has returned to the Viking camp.” Her father replied. There was a clank as the princess dropped the knife in her hand against the plate before her. She looked to her father quickly, finding it much harder to mask her emotions at this news. Could this be true? Had her husband actually left, and returned to his people?

“Truly?” She questioned eagerly, needing to hear it confirmed.

“Yes, he and Sir Roland are there clearing it.” The emperor went on, motioning to the servants to begin to serve the food. Princess Gisla’s face fell.

“Clearing it?” The princess asked, brow creasing in confusion.

“It was the heathen’s idea. He requested to take fifty or so men as to dispose of the other heathens.” Count Odo spoke up. Gisla looked towards the man quickly, jaw clenching as anger rose in her now. “Well…I say request…he pointed, made a motion as if firing a crossbow…” The count motioned with his hand as if to say that summed up the trouble he had communicating with the duke.

“And how do you know this was not a trick; a rouse to attack our soldiers unaware? He might have already warned his people.” The princess proposed.

“I do not believe that was his intentions, princess.” Count Odo replied, sounding rather sure of himself.

“And how is that? You cannot understand him, he cannot understand you.” Gisla pointed out, “He might have told you his intentions to your face and you would not have known.”

“Because he does not mean to fight the heathens. He requested only the crossbow infantry, no cavalry, no heavy infantry.” At this, he paused as if taking in the moment that he alone knew the importance of this detail. “He means to ambush them.” He finally concluded for the rest of them.

Princess sat back in her chair, staring at Count Odo for a moment before looking away. She stared at nothing in particular before her. There was still a chance her husband would not return, but on what mission had he left for? What purpose was there in killing his own people other than for the benefit of the people of Paris? Surely, that could not be the reason.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun had set by the time the men returned to the city. Rollo walked among them, having given his horse to the stable outside the gates. They did not act as his brother’s men would have. They were quiet, only talking amongst themselves occasionally. This did not feel like the victories he was used to. The streets of the city were empty; the tension that hung above them during a raid was not there, this was a comfortable empty. They walked in a pack, the moon above them as they wound with the streets to the palace.

One by one, men peeled away from the group. Those who had homes to return to did so. By the time they arrive at the palace, the spires looming in the shadows, there is only a small group that remained of those who held positions as palace guards. Rollo stepped through the threshold of the entrance hall, made his way to the center of the room and paused.

Those men who walked about him did not know why the heathen stood there. He looked to the ceiling above him, he looked to each of the walls about him. Was he looking for someone? Had he expected a welcoming party upon his return? He finally stopped with his gaze on the banners that hung above them.

The colors of the emperor above him.

They could not doubt his loyalty now. He was the heathen who killed heathens. His own people could not turn against him now as none lived to do so. These people of Frankia would not turn against him, now knowing how deep his loyalty flowed. His brother would return expecting assistance and find none. It was truly his best course of action. One day, he knew, he would look back on this day and know he made the right choice. Not on this day, not when the screams still echoed in his ears and the taste lingered bitter on his tongue, but one day.

He turned and trudged up the stairs to his own chambers. He did not know what he expected; for the news to have reached his wife, for her to fling her arms about him in gratitude for finishing what she had longed for. The chambers were dark, save for a single rack of short wicked candles by the door. His wife did not greet him, for she was asleep in their bed. She had piled a stack of pillows along her back, separating the bed down the middle.

He took a deep breath, taking in the iron stench he had yet to escape, and began to ready himself for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short cut scene that could have gone before or after the ambush. Another short scene of Rollo's return after the ambush.
> 
> I just liked the idea of Gisla thinking Rollo just up and left. As if she actually scared him with the knife or something.
> 
> Yes, the Rollo part is blatant set up to parallel the final victory walk in 4x10. Deal with it, I like parallels.
> 
> Also, answering 2 things that have bugged me: How did Rollo explain this to the Franks? What is Gisla and Rollo's sleeping arrangement before Gisla trusts him? (She's testing out a new set up here.)


	4. Kill The Queen - Gisla avoids Rollo

Gisla’s waking thoughts were consumed with how to avoid her husband. They began as soon as her eyes opened. Should she wake before him she would go about preparing for the day, scuttling about the room like a mouse hiding from a cat not daring to make a sound. If she heard the telltale thumps of her husband getting ready she would lay stiff as a board until she heard him leave. Attempting to ready herself for bed took much longer to prepare for.

If she knew he was to be busy, she would rush to their chambers, preparing herself quickly and slipping into the bed before he could arrive. If she did not know his plans for sure, this required the princess to aimlessly walk the corridor waiting for a sign of her husband ascending to their chambers. She would then have to wait a time and hope that when she finally arrived he would be asleep. 

Of course, this process had yet to be perfected. At both times of day there was the chance she would have to share her chambers with her waking husband. After a few meager failed attempts at engaging her, he stopped all effort. She knew he was present merely by the sensation of his gaze on her. It was the same prickly sensation she felt when someone, such as Count Odo, stared at her. Yet, it was not a chill down her spin, but a shock up from her fingertips; the feeling that rushed through her when a storm hung in the air.

He did not stare at her like a beast to his prey. Like a beggar at a fresh loaf of bread. It was if he were studying her, memorizing her. He consumed her actions, not her visage. He watched her, but not wishing for her to know he was doing so for her attention. It was unnerving.

She wished he would stop.

If she knew he was to be in a certain wing of the palace she would avoid it. She took up visiting with the poor and sick once more, just as she had during the siege. It was easy to avoid her husband when she was not in the same palace as he.  Unfortunately, even this was to come out poorly for her.

* * *

 

The princess took a seat at the feast next to her father. She watched as her husband filed in behind the table. He paused at the empty seat next to her, staring from the seat to her as if silently questioning if this was where he was to sit. He opened his mouth but no noise came out and suddenly her father interrupted.

“Duke Rollo, come, have a seat next to me.” Her father placed his hand briefly on the chair to his other side and for the moment Gisla thought her father was finally on her side. Rollo’s face fell, unable to produce the words to protest, he moved to take the seat offered to him by the emperor.  The feast moved along in silence, much to Gisla’s pleasure. Yet, she knew it was only a matter of time. She believed her father detested silence too much to allow it for too long.

“Daughter, I have heard word that you are conducting visits to the sick houses and the poor in the city once more. Is this true?” Her father questioned.

“Yes.”

“Have you gone alone?”

Gisla looked to her father, brow creasing at the odd question. She placed her knife down, and turned to better look at him.

“Yes, father, with my guard.” She replied, her tone questioning.

“Perhaps you ought to take your husband with you next time.” Her father replied, having not bothered himself to look to her. He kept his eyes down on his plate as he leaned forward to take another bite. Rollo seemed to understand the word husband, at least, his head perked up and he looked towards the conversation; although he did not stop eating.

“What?” Princess Gisla questioned.

“Your husband will need to become acquainted with the city and its people. Who better to introduce him than his wife?”

“Surely you jest, father. You cannot expect me to go out in public with him!”

“He is your husband; it is expected for you both to be seen together.” The emperor continued as if one-half of the couple he spoke of was not sitting silently to his other side.

“Yes…but…” The princess took a deep breath, attempting to settle her argument in her mind before she spoke it. In truth, she merely did not wish to spend time with him; where it was spent was of little concern to her, but she knew her father would not settle for that. “Look at him, father!”

Her father must have thought she meant it as a command, and did so. Gisla sighed, now fearing she took the wrong path in convincing him.

“He is a beast! His hair is a wild mess. He wears pelts and furs like the animal he appears. And you expect me to walk the streets of Paris with him at my side as if I condone such dress?” There was a pause as her father seemed to be considering her words. His eyes stayed on Duke Rollo, who now appeared suspicious as why the both of them were looking at him.

“You are correct daughter, something should be done.”

With that, the emperor returned to his plate and silence, only broken by the smack of Duke Rollo’s lips, fell among them once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets be honest, this episode needed more Gisla. Along with showing more mundane interactions, this chapter also sets up Rollo's random makeover. 
> 
> I originally had this as the opening of the following chapter, but I wanted to give Gisla her own chapter focus.


	5. Kill The Queen - Rollo's Extended Makeover

For the past three days Rollo had been concerned with only one thing; flipping a coin and making it land on the windowsill. The windowsill was a ways up, which is why it had taken him so long. He had eventually grown bored; he tried tossing the coins up and managed to make one land. He took pride in knowing it would be up there for good, reasoning that it was not easily cleaned and therefore not cleaned often. The true highlight had come when he flipped a coin and it landed on the head of a guard. The man refused to let Rollo attempt to do it purposefully.

Unfortunately, the chamber that had been set aside as his private room had been intruded upon. Two men stood between two racks of fabric in front of high screens, one speaking loudly and motioning wildly while the other seemed to attempt to follow orders. Their path was obstructed only by a low back chair placed in the middle of the room; coincidentally in almost the same place as where Rollo’s chair normally stood.

The door was pushed closed by a guard behind Rollo, and it caught the attention of the two men by the fabric racks. Rollo’s presence apparently excited the men, at least the younger one. His face lit up as his arms stretched out. He greeted Rollo, as he neared him, in words he did not understand. Rollo’s expression must have alerted the man to his confusion. A hand was placed on the viking’s back and he was guided towards the racks of fabric.

Now Rollo realized it was not just fabric; it had already been cut and sewn into some sort of tunics. He looked from the racks to the men, his brow creased still. They meant to dress him. He supposed that could have been what the emperor and the princess had been discussing the other day. They did seem to be speaking about him. A tug on his shoulder pulled Rollo from his thoughts. He looked over to the man, who motioned to the racks of clothes once he had Rollo’s attention.

With a deep breath, Rollo gave a nod and then a shrug. What could he do? He had to admit that his clothes seemed to be in a worse state beside those of the court of Paris. He had not brought much with him, and had already started borrowing from the palace; mostly plain tunics, and the pair of trousers they had managed to find for him. Perhaps if this was what the princess wanted she would look more favorably on him. At least she would respect his willingness to compromise.

He was helped out of his clothes by two servants, despite believing himself more than capable of doing so himself. He was not embarrassed to be near naked, but there was something that made him uncomfortable by being undressed by others. He was thankful when the cream-colored tunic was draped over his head.

He looked down curiously at the fabric that now covered his chest. It was much more intricate and detailed than what he typically wore. It felt delicate, he wasn’t used to such a sensation. 

The garment itself felt too tight in the shoulders, and too large in the gut. For a moment he thought it might have originally been intended for someone with the body more like Count Odo. One of the craftsmen produced a belt and wrapped it about his middle, this worked to cinch it in enough to appear the correct size. Rollo had just a moment to appraise himself before he was being guided back to the chair.

He was sat down and watched as the younger craftsman held up the smallest pair of trousers Rollo had ever seen. His brow creased as the man knelt before him, and he wanted to tell the man the trousers would never fit. Yet, when he leaned forward to do just that he watched as the trousers expanded to fit easily over his calves and the man continued to pull them up towards his knee caps. The craftsman had just started to work them towards Rollo’s thighs when he decided that was enough and the viking pushed the man back. The craftsman looked startled by the jostle, but recovered quickly and motioned for Rollo to continue. No harm seemed to be done.

The viking rose to his feet and reached down, grabbing onto the tight trousers and pulled them up. His tunic rose to bunch about his chest as he pulled the fabric up over his hips. Once he had them as far as they would stretch, he pushed the tunic back down, taking a moment to look himself over before looking to the two men before him.  The younger was down on his knees again, this time placing a pair of shoes before Rollo. They were the least offensive part of the outfit. Although shorter than he liked, at least they were black leather with laces, instead of the slippers he had seen some men in. Rollo stepped into them and the man secured them before he rose, giving Rollo a reassuring smile.

The servants began speaking to Rollo again. He didn’t understand what they were saying, but even Rollo could tell when he was being complimented; even if he didn’t entirely believe it. He felt ridiculous, but if the princess would like it, he supposed he could get used to this new style of dress.

The two men started to speak between one another. Rollo had gotten used to people doing this; speaking as if he wasn’t also in the room. He looked about, trying to find a reflective surface to look himself over in, but realized something else in the process. The two men who had assisted the craftsmen in undressing him, the two servants themselves, even the guards within the chambers; they all had something in common that Rollo did not.

He turned quickly to the two men, quick enough he must have caught their attention. Rollo felt the words rolling in his mouth. He could think of what he wanted to say, but his mouth could not form it. He took a deep breath, swallowing his frustration, before pointing to the younger man before him. He paused and then pointed to the other.

“Fr…Phre…Frankish.” Rollo got out. He pointed back to the younger man and repeated the word. He turned then, pointing to the each of the servants in the room in turn. Each time he repeated ‘Frankish’. He turned back to the craftsmen, pointing at the younger and this time with more forced pointed at his head and repeated, “Frankish.” The two men looked between one another, obviously not understanding entirely what Rollo meant by this show.

With a sigh, Rollo lowered his arm, thinking on how to better get his point across. It took him only a moment before he pointed back at the man and repeated the one word, only this time he then pointed to his own head and added, “No Frankish.”

He gripped the end of a lock of his hair and held it up, then with the other hand formed the shape of shears with two fingers. He mimed the action of the ‘shears’ opening and closing his fingers about the lock of hair. Understanding washed over the two men before him, the younger craftsman nodding and clapping in approval before motioning back to the chair. Rollo sat down, hands gripping the sides of the chair as he watched the man go about collecting something out of his sight. The craftsman returned with a pair of shears and a smile.

“Make Frankish,” Rollo said, finding the word came easier after having said it so many times. He turned to face forward, fingers tightening around the arms of the chair. The clothes he could easily remove, but his hair…he could not remember the last time he had cut it. As a child he must have, perhaps before he became a man. He had always taken pride in keeping it well kept.  He was just about to speak up, stop the man, but a tug on the back of his scalp told him it was too late. He heard the clicking of the metal shears meeting each other and knew the deed was done. There was no turning back. He merely raised his hand to his shoulder, pausing before raising it higher. He shook his head, to show he didn’t want it so short, and then lowered it again.

Hair fell to the floor like autumn leaves. He brushed it off his lap, blew it from his face. He watched as a servant entered, whispered something to the craftsman standing off to the side and then left once again. The man spoke to the man cutting Rollo’s hair before looking to the viking. He was speaking loudly, people kept doing that when they tried to speak to Rollo; as if it would help him understand if they were louder. Rollo’s brow creased and the man repeated himself, finally Rollo picked out a word; wife.

“Wife?” Rollo questioned, pointing to the door; the man gave a nod. His wife was here. Had they told her? Obviously, they had told her. Her father had probably insisted she come to see him. This did not help Rollo feel better about his current appearance; his wife would see what he looked like before he would himself. Still he sat, now in tense anticipation for the man to finish. How much hair was he planning to cut?

Finally, the man sat the shears down, and a hand on Rollo’s shoulder told him he could rise. He did so with help from the older craftsman. He brushed the hair from his lap as the man left to pick a garment from one of the racks. There was more he had to wear? The tight trousers were already uncomfortable enough. He reluctantly pulled on what looked like to be a robe, giving a nod as the younger craftsman gave a bow to him. The older man was still fussing with him when he noticed the door opening. His wife was as impatient as he was.

He nudged the craftsman away, not wanting his wife to see him being helped.  She walked into the room, her eyes scanning over them. Rollo thought he saw the workings of a smile. Perhaps this would have the effect he hoped for. He held his arms out as he had been taught and gave a bow to his wife.

And she laughed.

It echoed off the walls of the hall, her two maidservants joining in, but not to the same degree as she. Not as soon as Rollo would have liked, but soon enough, her laughter finally died down. The older craftsman looked distraught. Rollo stayed silent, although he did straighten up as he watched. Why had he thought this would make a difference? How could he have been so foolish? It was a change, yes, but only a small one. It was surely not enough to win her affection.

“My princess, forgive me.” The older servant spoke up, “I thought this is what you wished for?”

“What is he wearing?” The princess asked, laughter dancing on the edge of her tone.

“The finest fabrics, cut in the same fashion as the emperor himself prefers, just a bit shorter to show his shapely legs.” The man insisted. This got another laugh from the princess.

“The same as the invalid emperor?” She questioned, “This is a warrior.” She motioned to Rollo, who was surprised by the gesture. He did not know what she was saying, but it did not seem as a slight towards him. “He is twice the size as my father, and unlike my father he does not spend all day sitting on a throne!”

“Craft him something in a different fashion. Something he would prefer, for surely he does not like this. He is my husband, for the time being, and I will not be seen with someone who looks so foolish.  He is here to protect this city; he must be able to go from the soldiers’ quarters to the court. Have you ever seen a soldier in a robe?” Princess Gisla went on, raising a brow as she motioned to her husband once again.

“I expect you to begin work on this immediately.” She seemed to finish, and turned from the men. She had taken only a few steps back to the door before turning back to them, “And try to make him something in blue.”

With that, she left the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth SO MANY TIMES on "Did Rollo initiate the make over?" "Did Rollo initiate the wardrobe change?" "Did Rollo Initiate the haircut?" I probably bugged a few of you bouncing ideas off you. I finally settled on this. Clive had mentioned that Rollo was actively trying to be accepted, I saw the haircut as sort of his "jump into the pool". He decides to go big or go home (and he can't go home). 
> 
> I'm not entirely happy with it but I needed to stop nit picking on it. (I was also tired of looking up medieval tailor and barber practices and YES I decided the tailor is also a barber. People had cross trades. Things were not unionized yet. Most of the time they were servants anyways.)
> 
> Sorry if it got confusing on who I was referencing. I promise to make the next chapters better. This one was hard cause I had to work the actual scene into it.


	6. Mercy - Rollo attends church

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cause why didn't we get Rollo going to church? 
> 
> Set pre-events of the episode Mercy.

Gisla felt the shadow before she noticed the man who made it. She looked up to see her husband, her brow creasing immediately. She did not believe she would ever have to fear his presence here, in the chapel of the royal palace. What was he doing here?  Quickly she looked to her father, despite her disappointments in him recently she still looked to him to fix a situation or at least have some further insight to it. His brow merely raised as he looked on, seeming pleased with the site before him.

“What are you doing here?” The princess finally spat. For a brief moment the Duke looked slightly taken aback before merely looking about him. “This is a place of God, to worship God. “

“Daughter.”

The princess took a deep breath, turning to face her father; the only man who could command her with a single word.

“Yes, father?”

“How is it that our lord God’s church grows?” He questioned.

“By his people believing on him, and accepting him as their lord God and savior,” Gisla replied as if by memory.

“And how is one to believe on the Lord?” The emperor went on. The princess fixed him with a look only she could give to the emperor and survive. She turned to face her husband, the scowl not leaving her features as he looked back to her. “By hearing the word of God,” the emperor answered for her and gave Duke Rollo a smile. The Duke seemed to take the smile as an indication that he was in the right to stay and did so.

It was not long before Rollo regretted his decision to join his wife in her church, and then again to stay when she clearly did not wish him to. Even though they were required to stand, Rollo felt it very likely he would fall asleep where he stood. More than once he caught his own head lolling to his chest, and found it difficult to concentrate. He didn’t understand a word the man, who he assumed was the priest, spoke; if this was Frankish he had never heard the like of it. The room itself was very warm and the sweet smell of incense made the chapel far more comfortable than its hard appearance.

Finally he noticed the people about him start to stir and he assumed it was time to leave. However, they did not walk to the back of the church where he knew the exit to be, but towards the front to meet the priest. Confusion spread over his features again, but he moved to follow until his wife stepped before him. He was startled, having not seen her so close since their wedding night. She wore the same scowl now that she had that night as he moved over her.

“You are not permitted to take of the Holy Sacrament.” She explained, although he had no way of knowing what she said. “Stay.” She instructed, as if he were truly an animal, and pointed to the spot he had just stepped from to further her point. He looked back and then up again; everyone else was walking to the priest, why as he not to? Fortunately, Count Odo was at his side.

“Come, Duke Rollo.” The count spoke calmly as he touched his hand to Rollo’s elbow and stepped back with him. The princess glared after the pair of them before she turned to make her way towards the altar.


	7. Mercy - Gisla sees Rollo Training

The princess very rarely found herself in this wing of the palace, but in her attempts to avoid certain inhabitants of the palace she had been going out of her way often. Lost in her thoughts she had taken a wrong turn, and her maidservants were too obedient to speak up. Now she found herself hearing the echoes of the training yard, the smell of damp earth and the over powering stench of too many men together in one place.  The princess stepped through an archway into the opened corridor next to the training yard, her vision momentarily flooded by the sunlight now unobstructed.

 The men did not cease, despite her presence. Most of them seemed to be standing in lines, merely waiting about for their turn to come to the front. There, three men fought those whose turn it was to attempt to overcome them. A well timed glance permitted her the sight of one of the three men being brought to his knees, and then reluctantly walking to the back of the line. She lingered too long on the sight, a flash of bare skin caught her attention and all at once her footsteps stopped.

Her husband stood among them, fought among them right in the center. He was not clad as the other soldiers who wore light leather or padded armor. Her husband stood tall, a head above the rest, in nothing but his leather trousers and boots that he favored and a sleeveless heavy tunic. His hair was pulled back to the crook of his neck, the shorter pieces about his face falling into his eyes. He fought with a blunted sword in one hand and an axe in the other, although he spilled no blood.

She watched him for a moment, having not seen him in such a state since the battle on the bridge. He fought just as she remembered, although now he seemed to be holding back to not do serious damage to the men he fought. She felt her heart racing, despite her wishes, just as it had done before when she watched him.

After a few lingering moments, she was pulled from her trance by voices.

Female voices, and much closer than she would have anticipated them to be. She turned, looking further down the corridor and hesitantly began to walk again. She reached a column and heard the voices clearly. One of them she knew to be Therese, the sister of Roland, but the other two she was not familiar with.

“How long do you think it will be?”

“Until what?” Therese questioned her companion.

“Until the duke takes a mistress,” the first woman replied. Gisla slunk back into the shadows of the column, staying safely on her own side as the women spoke. She would not have cared, but the conversation seemed to be about those concerned with her. So she listened, tugging her maidservant next to her.

“Not long, I would think. He seems a man not easily satisfied, and he most certainly is not now.”  Therese replied, causing the other two to fall into laughter.

“I do not know how the princess resists such a man. Surely ones belief in God does not affect matters of the bed chambers.” The third womanly voice spoke up.

“If anything, a lack of them improves it.” The second voice replied.

“Soon, she will either demand a divorce with an unconsummated marriage, or the duke will seek another. Either way, I believe it is only a short matter of time before we find how well the duke wields his sword.” The third woman noted, and after a pause the three broke out in laughter once again. Gisla straightened up, red heat threatening to rise along her cheeks.

The princess ran her hands over her skirts, looked to her maidservant briefly, and then stepped out of the shadows and continued passed the group of women. Her slipper clad feet met the stone with enough force their contact was sure to greet the group gathered there. It had the affect she sought, guilt-ridden faces turned upon her approach, and all three women dipped into a curtsey. Only Therese was brave enough to chance a second glance as the princess passed. Gisla met her gaze with indifference, not permitting her the knowledge of if she had heard or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else ever notice that Gisla and Therese, despite being the only female characters in Frankia, NEVER interacted? 
> 
> Also, fight me, Rollo was a court sensation when he got there. Hot northman who fights shirtless make the Frankish ladies go WOO. (No seriously, in history it's how we get the Normans. Frankish women flocked to the vikings cause they were cleaner than the native men and had pretty hair. I'm not kidding.)
> 
> Set before the events of the episode Mercy.


	8. Mercy - Gisla Post-Feast

 The door slammed so hard behind her it bounced back without closing. She did not face it until she had reached the far wall of the room and had no where else to go. She stared out into the abandoned corridor, expecting someone to be following her but saw no one in her wake. A deep breath released passed her lips and she felt her shoulders slack for just a moment.

She had declared it. In front of her father and the entire court, let him try and ignore it. The whole court knew now that she wished to rid herself of her husband, if they had not already guessed it from before. She would be free of him, finally. No longer a pawn to her father, forced to play a part she wished no part of. He would have no choice but to do as she wished or face an entire court knowing he forced and kept her in this marriage against her will.

The princess took a step and suddenly stopped. A figure had strolled into the corridor and she recognized it as her husband. Surely he was not to be the one to follow her. Surely he had more sense than to try and speak with her himself. It was he she was upset with most of all, he that had put her in such a state. For a moment she almost wished he would, dared him to turn down the corridor towards her. She would scream so loud they would hear her in the market below.

But he did not. After pausing, seeming to debate which path to take, he took to the corridor away from her. She watched as he stormed to the far end of the corridor and slammed his own door behind him. Unlike Gisla's, his stayed shut. She let out another breath, silently thankful she would not have to confront him again, and somewhat disappointed she would not have the chance.

She paced the length of the room and was returning to the other side when a new figure entered the corridor. She knew it instantly as Count Odo. She let out a sigh, she should have known he would be the one to find her. To comfort her in his own sickening way. To sooth her with his false words and stiff sympathy. She stepped back out of the door way and waited, preparing to accept his glee lace words of support and disappointment.

He glanced to her wing of the corridor and promptly followed the path of the heathen.

Gisla was in shock. Surely in a matter of moments the door would reopen, Odo discovering it was not the princess he found, and he would come to speak to her on behalf of her father (while offering his own condolences). She waited. She stepped fully into the doorway, he would not be able to miss her upon his return to the corridor. Still he did not come.

Her father had sent him to comfort the heathen.

Anger welled inside her. In truth, the less company she spent with Count Odo the happier she was for it. But she had come to expect that given the chance to worm his way into a situation to his advantage he would. The only person who would prevent him from doing so would be her father, which meant he sent Count Odo to check on her heathen husband. Not herself. His own daughter. For her he had no mind to send an apology, to check on her well being. No, his precious heathen's happiness was more important than her own. That was obvious by the marriage alone.

She wanted to scream loud enough to shake the palace to it's foundation. Her feet carried her from the door to the table of the room. Her hands leaned against the wood, her nails digging in under the edge. She took a deep breath, silence overwhelming her before she reached out and grabbed an unlit candle. She turned and quickly threw it, the wax broke against the stone wall with a satisfying crack. The pewter stand followed after, the racket it's descent caused echoed down the corridor and for a moment she heard a pause in the buzz from the great hall.

Pleased with herself she strolled from the room, overturning a chair and slamming the door behind her in her wake for added effect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're having trouble visualizing this corridor think of a lower case t or a cross. The stairs are at the top, the great hall across from them. Gisla's room is at the end of the corridor to the left from the great hall, Rollo's to the right.
> 
> I've been really busy, but I knew I was going to be even more busy so I forced myself to be Mulan and get down to business. It just really bugged me that Charles and Odo were more concerned with Rollo than Gisla. Although, really, Rollo's the most concerned person when it comes to Gisla.


	9. Mercy - Rollo apologizes to Lupus

Rollo did not return to his studies. He did not wish to spend another moment in that stuffy room with that old priest. He didn't even know what he as being taught to say half the time. Who knows what the priest was having him say? Perhaps he had been disillusioned when he made the demand. It had never been his strong suit to learn things. Fight, that as what he did, and that was what he had ultimately done in the room. He fought.

Ragnar had been the one who took easy to learning.

He tried to shake the thoughts from himself. He was in Frankia now. In Frankia he was not bound by the constraints of what people expected of Ragnar and what they expected of him. He did not have to be Rollo, brother of Ragnar, constantly in his shadow, following in his wake. He was Duke Rollo, husband to Princess Gisla. Still his pride would not allow him to return to the room.

Days passed and he did not return. Part of him was sure it did not matter. He had not heard word of anyone finding a priest dead in the palace so at least the old man had survived the fall, but Rollo was sure he would not have returned the room himself after that. Rollo showed himself as a savage heathen. If the man was still in Paris Rollo would be surprised.

It was almost a fortnight when, mostly out of curiosity and from the ache he felt to feel as if he was progressing here again, Rollo made his way to the small stuffy room. He expected to find it empty. Yet, there at the table sat the priest, his head bent over a tome and a crutch leaning against the table beside him. This priest was tougher than Rollo gave him credit for.

"Ah, Duke Rollo, you have returned at last." Abbot Lupus greeted, sitting his book on the table before him. He moved to rise, but Rollo shook his head quickly to stop him. He made his way to the table, his expression unsure as he leaned against it. He took a deep breath, willing himself to pull the words he wished to express out of thin air.

"I...guilty." Rollo said, pressing his hand to his chest. The abbot's brow creased as he looked up to the imposing northman. "Guilty." Rollo repeated, patting his own chest.

"Guilt...you are sorry?" Abbot Lupus suggested. Rollo gave a nod, that sounded better; it was what he was trying to say, at least.

"I are sorry." Rollo told him. "Wanting." He reached forward and tapped the book the abbot had just sat down.

"You wish to continue to learn?" Abbot Lupus asked, to which Rollo replied with another nod. "Why?" The abbot asked, his eyes narrowing. He had been curious for the intentions of the northman since the emperor placed him in his charge. Of course, it would make since for a man to wish to communicate with those around him, even a heathen would want that. But he was curious if there was not something more, something he intended to gain by finally learning their language. Perhaps he was ambitious, he wanted more land. Perhaps he was greedy, he wanted more gold. Finally, Rollo replied.

"Princess."

Silence fell between them before Abbot Lupus gave a small nod. He motioned to Rollo's desk that had sat empty for near a fortnight. Rollo looked back to the desk, and then again to Abbot Lupus before quickly moving to take a seat.

"Perhaps we will learn something different than what we had been given to learn." Abbot Lupus noted. "We will begin with the most important....Gisla."  
"Gisla." Rollo replied.

"Gisla." The abbot corrected his pronunciation.

"Gisla." Rollo repeated, the abbot gave a nod, and Rollo repeated again. "Gisla...Princess Gisla..."

"Wife." The abbot added.

"Princess Gisla...wife." Rollo repeated, a small smile twitching at his lips.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, Abbot Lupus is a trooper. Going from Rollo throwing him over a table to getting a pat on the back from him. I decided to not make him all bad, just cause Rollo really needs a friend in Frankia. So maybe Odo gave Lupus a script to teach Rollo. Make the heathen think he was learning Frankish when really he was just memorizing an introduction. He would think he could speak the language, but not understand it. Rollo touches a soft spot with Lupus saying he wants to learn Frankish for Gisla and the abbot flips the script.
> 
> Also, Rollo refers to him as priest cause he just thinks every church man is a priest.


	10. Mercy - Gisla visits Rollo and Lupus

Only a single knock preceded the door opening. The guard stepped to the side presenting Princess Gisla. Abbot Lupus bowed, Rollo stayed seated but looked back to her. The abbot straightened, closing his book to hold against his stomach. "Princess Gisla, I did not know to expect your visit. Forgive me, I would have made the room more presentable."

"You are forgiven, father abbot. My visit was not announced." The princess explained as she stepped into the room, hands clasping before her.

"Truly, you are welcome here any time you like." He insisted, motioning to the room about them. Gisla gave him a soft smile, one she had perfected in all the times she gave it.

"I thank you, father abbot. In truth, my visit is to find where my husband disappears to daily." Gisla explained, walking to stand by her husband's side. She glanced down at him before looking to the abbot once more, "I had thought he had a whore."

The abbot's face paled white. Rollo let out a gruff sigh and rolled his eyes. In truth, the princess had not entirely been against the notion. A whore would distract the beast, and give her further reason for a divorce. Be that as it may, she did feel a twinge of annoyance by it. She could not place exactly why.

"Clearly he does not." Gisla added after a pause, "What is it you do here with my husband, father abbot?"

"Oh...well...well the duke is learning Frankish. To speak, and understand it." The abbot replied, his words stammering from the shock of the princess' previous assumption. The princess let out a light laugh.

"Truly? You believe him capable?" Gisla asked, glancing at her husband quickly before focusing on the abbot once more.

"Yes...rather...he is. He has learned much, princess. Surely..."

"Is this the truth?" Gisla asked, now addressing her husband. Rollo looked up at her and merely shrugged. So, he at least understood her...perhaps. "What have you learned, husband?"

Rollo looked to the abbot, who with an encouraging smile motioned towards him. Rollo straightened up, his eyes on his wife and after a moment finally began.

"I...I am being....Rollo savage...not...pleasure...hello."

There was a break of silence before Princess Gisla's laughter filled the small room once more. She looked to Abbot Lupus, still smiling.

"He is a simple heathen, you would have better results in the stables, good Abbot Lupus." She noted. A glance to her husband issued another light laugh before she turned to leave. Silence fell between the two until the princess disappeared into the corridor, the door shut behind her.

"Duke Rollo...why is it you addressed the princess in such a way? Why did you not speak true to her?" The abbot questioned uncertainly. The duke took a deep breath, his eyes lingering on the door before he looked up to the abbot.

"She is not ready to hear me." Duke Rollo replied simply. He shook his head and then motioned to the abbot, "Please, go on, father abbot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would likely be after a few weeks. I wanted Gisla to figure out what as happening, but not think it was that big of a deal. Obviously, Rollo wouldn't let on how much he knew. Going from my previous headcanon, he's speaking from the "script" he was supposed to learn. 
> 
> Also, when Rollo finally speaks in Yol she looks to Odo like "did you hear that?". So, dipping into my headcanons; after this she would have mentioned it and Odo would explain his little plan with the script (being proud about it). That's what she would be expecting.


	11. Yol - Charles and Gisla Discuss

"Daughter."

"Father."

The door shut behind the princess as she stepped into the emperor's study. She had often thought of it as their own private chambers. No one was permitted to disturb the emperor when they were about their business; he reading and she reading the pages he most recently finished. He would pass them off to her, asking for her opinion when he noticed she had reached a certain point. This was Gisla's true education.

"It has been some time since you have paid visit to me, to what do I owe the honor now?" He questioned as she neared his desk. She noted that he had moved her normal seat. It no longer took up the place nearest his own to the side of the desk, but had been pushed nearer the fire. In spite of it, she stayed standing.

"I have come to confirm that you have done what I wished."

He paused before he answered.

"A letter has been sent to Rome."

"Requesting my divorce." It was not a question, though she wished for him to agree.

"Annulment."

"Annulment." The princess repeated, her voice softening just enough to be noted.

"Your marriage to Duke Rollo will have never happened. You will be an innocent in the eyes of the church."

"I will be able to marry again in the eyes of the church." She paused, brow creasing as she looked down to her father, "You wish for me to marry again."

"Of course I wish for you to marry again. God has seen to it that I am the emperor and with his grace comes duties I am burdened to enact. You are the daughter of the emperor and burdened by one duty that to this point you have neglected to preform."

Gisla did not reply. Her jaw was set in a scowl as she stared down at her father. He was a rarity; a man who could leave her speechless. She knew her place in this court, she had been her father's council for some time. But she would have never held the knowledge to do so without him. Because of this, he seemed the only one truly able to best her.

"It will take some time for the messenger to reach Rome, for the council to make a decision, and even longer before we receive word. If I were you, dear daughter, I would take this time to think if it is truly what you wish."

"Of course it is what I wish! I know my own mind, father. Despite your insistence to make it for me!"

"Is it?" Charles questioned, his voice remaining calm. He had a true talent for not raising his voice to meet his daughter's. "From my understanding your husband does not beat you, despite your claims he wishes to. If what you say is true he has not forced himself upon you. In truth, he gives you many liberties other wives are not accustomed to. You might not be so fortunate in your next marriage." He paused for a brief moment, "If I were you, daughter, I would take this time to think if it is better to have a good husband who is not a Christian, or a Christian husband who is not a good man."

Silence fell between them once more. Gisla's scowl had not faded from her features with her father's warning. In truth, it only worked to harden them in spite of him. Charles for his part did not seem perturbed. He merely waited, as he had learned to do with his daughter; she would speak when she wished.

"May I be excused, father?" Gisla finally asked, a bite in her tone.

"Of course, daughter."

With that the princess left without a word. Although, the emperor did note the particular force in which his chamber door was closed behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charles is way too easy for me to write. I've decided that. 
> 
> I just really love their dynamic and wished it would have been explored more. Lothaire and Morgane are amazing together.
> 
> I might end up writing more of them just because.
> 
> Also, this might end up getting moved further up, so don't be surprised if at a later date this is in the Mercy chapters.


	12. Yol - Gisla inspects towers

 The towers' foundations had been laid. Emperor Charles insisted it was too cold to visit himself and he trusted the opinions' of Count Odo and Duke Rollo. Princess Gisla insisted on seeing them for herself. Count Odo did not agree and the party set off before the princess was present. Gisla arrived shortly after accompanied by her own retinue of soldiers and did not speak a word about it.

Having already seen the first tower, Duke Rollo left as the party began to make their way across the river to visit it once more now that Gisla had joined them. The princess had taken notice, just as she had the previous weeks as her husband seemed to take less of a interest in her. She assured herself this was the attitude she sought after; he was much easier to tolerate if he avoided her as much as she wished to avoid him. Still, she wondered what brought about the change in him. After so long he seemed to have finally understood there was no use in attempting to gain her favor.

The princess questioned the count on the towers, down to where the timber was bought and which smithy in the city was providing the chain. He answered what he thought she should be privy to know, and she pressed him on those issues he did not. With the sun slowly dipping behind the city's walls the party thought it best to begin their return. None gave a second thought about the duke, he would surely have made his way back to the palace by now and would be waiting on their return.

"I wish to walk from here." Princess Gisla declared, moving to dismount without aid. Roland quickly dismounted to be waiting on the princess as she reached the ground.

"Count Odo would prefer you stay with guard." Roland informed her after she had righted herself before him 

"These are the woods of my father, I am safe in them. And I will stay between the guards. If I do come across trouble, surely the guards will be fast enough to reach me." The princess replied with a look Roland had come to know not to argue with, least he want spat on again. "And I wish to be left alone to my thoughts, instruct them to leave a wide perimeter."

The princess left, hearing the guard's compliance as she walked away from him.

The evening air was crisp and broken only by the distant roll of the river. The breaking leaves beneath her boots was a comfort, soon they would be covered by snow. The seasons were changing, and she with them. Her marriage was coming to an end, just as these leaves had met their own.

She would not deny the ping of nerves that pulsed constantly at the back of her mind. Her father's words had set with her uncomfortably. Still she told herself she was in the right. Had her father not slighted her own pride to secure his own she might have been more willing to comply with this marriage. It was useless to wish for different choices in the past now, but the implications would not leave her. Her father had not trusted her to make the correct choice; he had decided to make it for her.

Lost in thought the princess did not realize she had wandered from the path and neared the shore much closer than she had been walking. Upon realizing she had nearly breached the tree line she was about to turn back, until hearing the unmistakable sound of something dropping into water.

Brow creased, she did not turn back but continued on her new path.

She reached the shore edge and quickly halted, side stepping behind a tree with a sufficiently large tree trunk. What had dropped into the water was a figure, a large man, and he had returned to the surface. His back was to her, outlined in the dusky light from the setting sun. Still she could tell who was before her, the black markings that littered his back and arms could only belong to one man in Frankia.

Her husband carried on, unaware of her presence. He ran a cloth over his shoulder and down his arm. She had seen him in a near state before, the first time she ever saw him he was standing without a shirt in the same river. She did not know why she stayed, why her eyes remained fixed on him. She knew she should turn back. She fought against herself, telling herself she should not even care for the sight. He stretched his arm above his head, the other working the cloth down his side. As he did the gentle lapsing waves broke against his bare hip and caught Gisla's attention a fraction too late for her to turn away.

The duke had begun to turn, not enough to see the princess but enough to expose himself. Of course he was not merely standing without a shirt in the river, and the princess felt foolish for even assuming he would be so. It was nearly the first of such a sight she had ever seen before. Had shock not brought her senses to her she might have stood there staring for much too long against her desire to not wish to care. Instead she quickly caught her breath, her back pressing to the tree trunk before she pushed herself from it and swiftly walked back into the cover of the trees.

_What was he even doing bathing in the river like a beast? Were the palace tubs not good enough for his heathen ways? Had he not thought of the possibility of someone catching him in such an indecent state? He likely did not care. Where he came from they likely all bathed together, if they even bathed at all. And how could a man, who was not at least part a beast, be so hairy?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because every good period romance has a scene of the male protagonist bathing outside.
> 
> Sorry, I don't make the rules.


	13. Yol - Extended Arm Ring Scene (Happy Yol)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just moved my previous stand alone "Happy Yol" to be apart of this series. You can skip if you've read it.

“Why?”

“Why?”

 “Why is it important to you?” Gisla questioned. She had yet to pull her hand away, her fingers still clutched about the metal band. She could still feel his own against hers. His hand was softer than she would have imagined, but she could still feel the hard earned callouses from his past life. She watched as he took a deep breath. She could see him searching for the words. It was true he had learned their language, but it still seemed to take something out of him to speak it.

“With…my people, when a boy reaches the age to be a man he pledges his loyalty and respect to the earl. He pledges to fight for the earl, and honor him. In return, the earl gives him an arm ring, so that all others might see and know of his loyalty and respect to the earl.” Rollo explained with a nod.

Gisla looked down at the metal band again. Slowly her husband had let go as he spoke. She now held it on her own. Her eyes studied it. How the light reflected in the curves and twists of metal.

_His loyalty and respect._

“It was the last thing holding me to my people. To my earl,” He added, watching her. Finally, she looked back up to him.

“Why not give it to my father? Is he not your _earl_ now?” Gisla asked curiously. Her husband gave a small smile in return, as if he had anticipated she would ask this of him.

“I am giving it to you.” He replied simply. She looked back down at the arm ring, finally lowering it from holding it up between them. “Why is it you were on that wall during the battle?”

Gisla looked at him quickly, surprised by the question. The first time they ever saw one another. The first time she locked eyes with that heathen. Why had she been so drawn to him? And he to her; he nearly died because she held his attention.

“I thought…I was bringing a sacred banner for the soldiers. It had provided strength and courage to our men before, in another battle some time ago. I thought if they saw it again, it would do the same for them. I begged my father to do it himself, to be among his men like his grandfather. But he would not, so I did it myself.” She explained.

“Well, it worked…you beat us that battle.” Rollo replied with a smile, “And I am giving it to you.” He repeated with a nod to the arm ring, as if that explained it. She gave a small smile in return, not exactly meeting his gaze. A silence fell between them. Gisla felt confused, like a buzzing gnat near her ear. She had been so sure that morning. For months, she had been sure. But had she truly?

“Might I plead one more case?” Rollo questioned, “I believe the priest right. We have not been married.”

“Not truly.” She interrupted, “With the church.”

“Yes, that too, but a marriage is more than that. To be married is more than that…you do not know me.” Rollo pointed out, “You know my brother…you know my people, or what you think you know of them, but how is it you do not know that you would not like to be married to me?” Rollo questioned. Gisla started to answer but she could not. Truly, she did not know this man. She had assumed and judged, but apart from his name…she had not been given the chance. He had not been given the chance either, she supposed. But he seemed more sure than she.

_His destiny was to be with her._

 “This is your choice, Gisla, if you no longer wish to be married to me. I will not force you.”

His words caused her to pause before raising her gaze once more to look to him.

_He would not force her._

_It was her choice._

“Do you know the morning my father sent the envoy to you, propositioning the treaty and my hand in marriage he did not tell me until after the envoy had been sent?” Gisla questioned. “I had no choice in the matter, and when I protested he all but threatened me.”  She watched her husband’s face falter. “My only hope was that the envoy would return with word that you had rejected the terms.”

“No…I had suspected you were not happy with the decision…but I did not know this.”

“It is true.

His gaze now dropped for a moment. He seemed unsure now. Both remained silent for a time. Gisla reached over, picking up the papers the delegation had brought with him. Rollo’s arm ring remained around her fingers under the leather.

“If your words are true, and I can trust you…you have now given me two things my father never did.” Gisla noted looking up to him, “You admitted freely, without grudge and with appreciation that I was correct in my actions on the wall, and I thank you.” She noted with a small smile, “And you have given me a choice.”

“The delegation is true, by the church we are not married. We have not been one as man and wife. And so, in a sense, you are proposing. You are proposing marriage, and giving me a choice to accept or reject you.” Gisla explained.

“You can trust me.” Rollo insisted, his words stern.

“Do you promise?” Gisla question, raising the hand where his arm ring was still clutched. “Do you vow to be loyal to me?” Rollo’s eyes moved from the arm ring to her, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

“I vow to be loyal to you…to trust you, and respect you. To protect you.” Rollo told her, his eyes never wavering from hers.

“Then I accept.” Gisla replied simply, “I will marry you.” She added, a smile etching on her lips. She glanced down only briefly, her fingers finding the parchment bound in the leather and tore them from it. She tore it in half and placed them back inside. She closed the leather and sat it back on the table beside her. She looked back to her husband to see him washed in relief. He had seemed finally to breathe with her words.

“I am glad.” He admitted, smiling himself.  His hand reached up, fingers brushing through his beard as if he meant to hide the true joy he felt in that moment. “Uh…when?” He asked after a moment, his voice just a bit lower than before.

Gisla’s eyes widened and she could feel a gentle blush creep across her cheeks. She took a deep breath, making a point to find his gaze again.

“I suppose this evening.” Gisla reasoned with a nod. Her husband returned the gesture.

“Later…then?” He questioned, once more looking to her to make the choice. She took another deep breath; this was quick for something she had been putting off for so long.

“Um…just a bit, I…I need to ready myself.” Gisla assured him, trying to remember what she had been told to do all those months ago when it had been presumed she would go through this much sooner after the ceremony.

“Ready yourself?” Rollo questioned.

“Yes.” Gisla said simply in a tone that projected he need not ask further questions. “This gown is very difficult to remove without assistance.” She added in a softer voice.

“Alright,” Rollo smiled, a breathless laugh escaping his lips.

“Then…I will meet you in our chambers.”

“Yes.”

The two stood in silence once more. Gisla was not sure what the best way to depart was, but she felt like running to the door. She reasoned with herself that it would not be proper to do so and settled with a single step to the side. Her husband didn’t move. She took another, and then suddenly a thought occurred to her.

She turned back and looked up to her husband.

“Might I ask you something, and trust you will treat it with the truth?” Gisla asked.

“I have yet to lie to you.” Rollo pointed out.

“Yes…I suppose that is true.” Gisla smiled, and paused only a brief moment before going on, “I merely…I presume you have done this before?”

“Yes, I have done this before.” Rollo replied with a nod, his eyes glancing off to the side.

“Does it truly hurt?” She questioned. Quickly he looked back to her, his brow creasing.

“Who told you it hurt?” He asked.

Gisla sighed, her turn to look away from him in embarrassment, “My old nursemaid…some days before our ceremony.”

“Ah…well, I do not know from your side…it does not for myself.” Rollo admitted, “But I promise, I will try to not make it hurt.” He told her, his voice lowering again.

Gisla looked to him, a gentle smile of gratitude on her lips, “Thank you.” She whispered in return. “Wait a time…and then I will meet you.”

“Should we tell them?” Rollo asked, his gaze looking towards the doors where he assumed the party waited on the other side. Gisla followed his gaze.

“No…we will be the only ones to know…for a time at least.”


	14. Yol - Pillow Talk

Gisla awoke first. For a brief moment she stiffened, the unfamiliar sensation of someone else's arm around her alarmed her until memories from the night before flooded through her mind. With a breath she relaxed and finally opened her eyes. Morning sun filtered through the windows, falling right on the sleeping form of her husband beside her.

Her husband.

It was odd to think about without the tone of disgust surrounding it.

His chest rose and fell with each breath. Dust in the sun floated and danced above him. She noticed his hair was more fair than she previously thought, and from this angle she could see that gray had begun to pepper his beard. Cautiously she moved to rest her weight on her elbow, looking down as her husband continued to sleep peacefully. The light brightened his scars, of which she now saw he had plenty. There was one that cut through his brow and ran the length of his cheek, stopping on the corner of his lip at it's lowest point although it spread out in other directions. Dozens littered his chest, covered by thick dark hair but now shining in the sunlight.

Hesitantly she reached out, her fingers hovering over a scar that cut just beside the black marking in the shape of the sun on his chest. She ran the length of it, watching intently, until she heard a grunt from the back of Rollo's throat. Quickly she laid back down, tucking her hand against her own chest and squeezing her eyes shut. He let out a soft groan as his body shifted against her, and then all went still for a moment. Gisla felt his fingers move through her hair and tried to fight a smile from forming on her lips. She decided that was enough of an excuse to be woken up.

She stretched her muscles and then relaxed against him once more as her eyes opened to look up at him. This time her gaze was returned, and he smiled.

"Good morning." His throat was dry and his voice some how even more deep than it normally was.

"Good morning." She replied softly, her hand relaxing out of it's fist to lay against his chest.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, a brow raising.

"Yes...and you?"

"Yes...very." He replied with a breathless laugh. He looked off across the room for a moment before looking back to Gisla. His fingers ran through her hair again, pushing it back behind her ear. She was reminded once more of how gentle his hands could be, it was a wonder to her. "Have you still not changed your mind?"

"No." Gisla replied with a small smile, "How can I now?" She asked, her brow creasing.

"I could lie for you, if you truly did not wish to be married to me." Rollo suggested with a shrug, resting his hand on her hip.

"I have not changed my mind." Gisla replied with a stern look, which provoked another breathless laugh from her husband.

"Good, then we can tell your father." Rollo smiled. The princess' face fell for a moment before she moved to sit up. Rollo's hand moved out of her way but was replaced by his other on her back. "What is wrong?"

Gisla ran a hand through her hair before looking over her shoulder back to him.

"It is only...I was thinking if we might not tell him until this evening."

"Until this evening?" Rollo repeated, confusion evident in his tone. "Why?"

"After we tell my father he will wish to tell the court, especially after my public declaration of divorce. Then all of Paris will know, and soon all of Frankia. Our marriage will be shared with the entire kingdom...but until we tell my father it will be ours alone. And if we wait until this evening he will have already held court for the day."

Rollo was silent for a moment before he replied, "What of that man who brought the papers?"

"He will not leave, likely not for some time. He will not wish to travel during Epiphany and would not refuse the offer to celebrate it in Paris with the emperor of Frankia himself." Rollo moved to sit up, his hand moving up her back to rest between her shoulders.

"Then we will wait...until this evening." He told her with a nod and a smile.

"Thank you." Gisla replied with a small smile. Rollo paused and then after a moment's hesitation he leaned forward and pressed his lips to his wife's. The princess was still not entirely used to this, the casual actions of affection; but she was beginning to crave them.

"When will the women be here to help you dress?" Rollo asked, only pulling back just so.

"After I call for them." Gisla replied, her brow creasing.

"They do not...just...appear?" He asked, confusion lining his words as he glanced to the door as if he expected it to open to the maidens in that moment.

"No." Gisla laughed, "I have to send for them, and I have not. You are normally asleep when I do."

"Ah." Rollo replied with a nod and looked back to his wife, "So...they will not be coming for some time then?" He questioned, but before his wife could reply he had covered her mouth with his. He wrapped his arm behind her and gently laid her back down. Gisla moved with him, laying back with a breathless laugh as his lips broke from hers.

His kisses did not let up. They moved down her chin to neck. She had not been aware that kisses could be laid in such places as the ones her husband found to place them. Her fingers ran through his hair, turning her head away from him with another laugh as his beard brushed against her.

"Wait! Wait..." Gisla called out after a few moments of such behavior. Rollo raised his head to look down at her, still smiling.

"What is it?" He asked curiously. Gisla let out a heavy breath, returning his smile.

"It is only...what am I to call you?" She questioned, "Rollo...or husband...some men prefer their title." She added thoughtfully.

"Call me whatever you like." Rollo told her with another smile.

"Alright." She replied softly. Rollo gave a nod before lowering his head again, this time to the other side of her neck. He kept his weight mostly on his own hands but had moved his leg between hers. She allowed him to go on for a few moments more before she spoke up again, "Rollo..." He let out a heavy breath before he raised his head again.

"Yes?" He asked, his smile not completely lost. Gisla looked up a him a quiet moment before shaking her head.

"Nothing...it is nothing." She told him, "Go on." Rollo smiled and pressed his lips to hers before kissing her cheek and then along her jaw. His lips had almost met her neck again when she spoke up once more, "It is only..."

Before she could finish Rollo had raised his head again. He looked down at her a moment before merely laying back beside her again. He looked over to her and gave a small smile, looking half amused by her interruptions.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice surprisingly calm. Gisla gave a sly smile before moving to prop herself up on her elbow beside him.

"I was wondering..." Her finger brushed over one of the black marks on his chest, "What colors is it you favor?"

"What colors I favor?" Rollo repeated, not seeming to completely understand.

"Yes...which colors do you favor...which are pleasing to you...to look at, or if you could choose something to be a certain color?" Gisla explained.

"Uh...I had not thought of it before...I suppose...brown...greens." Rollo replied with a shrug, to which Gisla gave a nod.

"I favor blues." She told him after a pause. Rollo returned her nod, his hand reaching up to run his fingers through her hair, it was as if he could not keep them out of it.

"Is there anything else you wished to know?" He asked curiously, having now settled back into a comfortable position. Gisla looked thoughtful for a moment before she responded.

"What were your parents?" She asked. Fingers find their way to his beard, running down over his chin. "Your brother is king, was your father king before him?"

"No." Rollo replied, taking a deep breath, "That is not always how it works with my people...Ragnar killed the king before him." He explained, "My father was a farmer...like Ragnar was before he was king. Although, my father did fight in the shield wall...three times. My mother was a farmer, as well...and a fisher like her father. She too fought in a shield wall. And...she could speak...three languages."

"That must be where you got your ability." Gisla noted, her hand having moved back down to his chest as he spoke.

"Perhaps." Rollo replied with thoughtful smile. "I had not thought of it." In truth he had not thought of his parents in some time, it surprised him as easily the memories returned to him.

"Did you have any other brothers?"

"No...well, " his brow creased, "Yes, there as one between Ragnar and I...but he...he died when he was very young, I do not even remember him. And we also had a sister...she was older than Ragnar, but she died before she was born."

"And...that young man...the fair haired one who climbed the ladder with you and your brother...that is your brother's son?" She asked, her brow creasing as she tried to remember.

"Yes...Bjorn." Rollo answered with a small nod.

"Bjorn...and does your brother have any other children?"

"Four sons." Rollo replied.

"Four sons?"

"He also had a daughter...but she died some years before we came to Paris."

"Oh...so...five sons."

"Yes."

"Well...that is good then."

"Why?"

"Your brother has five sons...and your father had three...that means you will have many sons, as well."

Rollo let out another breathless laugh and looked up to Gisla with a smile, "I had stopped thinking of the sons I would have...I did not think it likely to happen." He admitted.

"Well, I mean to give you many." Gisla replied matter of factly.

"Do you?" Rollo asked raising a brow, "Just yesterday you despised me." He smirked.

"Not you...personally..." Gisla insisted quickly. "I despised the...idea of you. That you were a heathen, someone I was supposed to despise for hating God, but I was being told not to. And I hated that my father forced me to marry you...that he did not trust me and did not think I would make the correct choice for our kingdom."

Rollo raised his hand to her chin, looking up at her as he did.

"I trust you, and I do not wish for you to despise me." He told her softly.

"I do not despise you...and I...I trust you, as well." She replied with a nod. Rollo pushed himself up easily, meeting her lips with his. His hand moved up from her chin to cup her cheek as she wrapped her arms back around him. He wrapped his other arm under her and began to move over her again.

"Would you like to know more?" Rollo asked, parting his lips from hers for only a moment.

"Later." Gisla got out before kissing him again. Rollo moved his wife back to the bed to where they had started. He wasted little time this time, his hand dropping between them to rest between her legs. She turned her head as Rollo began to kiss down her neck again. "Rollo..."

"Hmm?" He replied, biting at her playfully.

"It is the morning."

"Yes...I know." He replied with a smile, quickly kissing her lips before looking down at her.

"We cannot...in the morning." She whispered looking up at him as if she expected to be overheard. Rollo raised a brow and then chuckled.

"You can have sex in the morning." He told her with a nod.

"You...can?" She asked, sounding as though she did not entirely believe him.

"Oh...I have very much to teach you, wife." Rollo chuckled before kissing her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to write a bit before "the deed" and then during, try to make sense of the pretty but confusing love scene. 
> 
> Decided to go with pillow talk after. I remember listening to a commentary of a movie once where the writer or director had been asked why they cut away from a really romantic moment and he said "Best to let them have this private moment to themselves". So I took that approach. (Wont later on...-whistles-)
> 
> Of course this has a lot more of my own headcanons primarily about Rollo. I haven't read the companion book so if it's any different, sorry!


	15. Yol - Newlyweds

"Am I to call him father now?"

"No, he is still your emperor."

Their footfalls fell in time with one another as they descended the staircase to the main hall. A sigh escaped the duke's lips and he held his wrist up. "I cannot get this." He muttered, Gisla reached across him, not breaking stride, and tied the lace herself for him. "Are you sure I should not be the one to tell him?"

"No, he will be less suspicious if I tell him." Gisla explained as Rollo's hand went back to his side. They reached the last step and paused before the closed doors. Rollo looked down between them and then offered his arm, Gisla took it without having to look for it and then gave the guard a nod. The doors were opened before them to the hall, the smaller dining table set up with the emperor himself already seated at it's head.

"Ah, daughter." The emperor spoke, and then raised his gaze to look at her. There as a pause and then he added, "And...Duke Rollo."

"Good evening, father." Gisla replied with a small smile. They reached the table and finally parted, Gisla going to one side of the emperor and Rollo the other.

"I had heard the envoy from Rome arrived yesterday." The emperor noted, watching Duke Rollo take his seat.

"Yes, we spoke with him." Gisla replied settling into her seat.

"You have?" The emperor asked, still seeming in a daze of confusion by the duke's mere presence. The conversation was paused as the priest stepped forward to give the blessing on the meal. Once finished he left the room and the servants began their work to fill the plates.

"Father." Gisla began, pausing to give him time to look at her. "I wish to tell you...that I have decided...not to divorce Duke Rollo."

"Not...?" Her father repeated.

"Yes, we have discussed things, and he convinced me that it would benefit all, even myself, to remain wed." Gisla explained, looking forward to Rollo across the table. Rollo returned her gaze with a small smile.

"And how is it he convinced you?" Emperor Charles posed, but his gaze had moved to the duke again. Rollo looked to his wife first, and after a small nod he looked to Emperor Charles.

"Your highness, I assured Princess Gisla that this marriage was for more than a mere treaty." Rollo replied, having to hide his satisfaction in the shocked expression of the emperor. "And if she should question my loyalty, she should never question my loyalty to her, and in turn Paris."

"It would appear Abbott Lupus has preformed a miracle." The emperor finally spoke.

"Or Count Odo has severely underestimated my husband." Gisla replied.

"Well, if it this any indication, he should hope to not do so again." Emperor Charles replied, and looked to his daughter again. "And...you are happy with this decision?"

"It was my choice...so I am very happy, father." Gisla assured him with a nod.

"Good...that is good...I only wish you might have told me earlier, I would have had time to announce it at court." The emperor noted, causing a knowing smile to appear on the princess' lips. "How is it that the envoy arrived yesterday but you have only decided now?" The emperor questioned. Gisla looked quickly to Rollo before looking to her father again."We...were discussing things...many things." She explained, with a nod of her head.

"Ah...well, it is insignificant." Emperor Charles noted, raising his glass. He paused, allowing the other two to follow suit, "To our treaty finally coming to fruition. May you both be happy."

 

* * *

 

 

Rollo reached the door first and held it open for Gisla. She gave a soft thanks and proceeded into the chambers. Two of the princess' maidens were waiting at the foot of the stairs that led to the private rooms above, they had been at work lighting the candles of the main chamber. Gisla made her way towards them as Rollo shut the door, looking unsure and staying to his own side of the room.

"I will change here from now on, using the screen." Gisla explained, her maidens giving a nod to show they understood. She reached out, touching the sleeping gown they had laid out for her, "And I will need a thinner gown...one of the summer ones." She added looking to them. They gave another nod and with a bow of her head one of the women stepped forward to take the gown back up the stairs.

Rollo had tried to busy himself. He was looking down at the clothes laid out for him. The maidens had laid out sleeping clothes for him each night and he typically ignored them, opting to sleep in what he had worn that day or a pair of trousers like he was used to. Now, he thought it would be best to give the sleep shirt a try.

The girl who had left returned now with a thinner gown. She laid it where the previous one had been and went to assist the other maiden with the screen. Rollo picked up the things that had been laid out for him and started for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Gisla asked curiously, removing her necklace.

"I was going to change." Rollo explained, pointing to the stairs.

"You may do so here...there is a screen." Gisla explained before disappearing behind the very screen she had referenced. Rollo could still see her outline, her shadow playing across the screen as she was helped out of her gown. There was something oddly arousing about seeing just her silhouette in such a state. Reluctantly he turned his back and went about ungracefully taking off his doublet and pulling on the night shirt before pulling off his stockings. He did so in such a order as to not give Gisla's maidens a shock. By the time he turned back around Gisla stood to the other side of the bed in a simple cotton sleeping gown, her maidens gathering her things.

"That will be all." Gisla told them after they hurriedly picked up Rollo's belongings and made their way up the stairs with a bow.

Rollo gave her a small smile and laid back on the bed. She returned the smile and made her way to the spot beside him. She pulled back the covers and laid down as he went about moving under the covers as well. He laid his arms on his lap and looked over to her.

"What are we to do?" Gisla asked, her brow creasing. "Before...we merely slept, but last night...are we to sleep or...how often are we to do...what we did?" She questioned looking up at him.

Rollo smiled again, "Well...if you wish to, we will." He shrugged.

"And what of when you wish to?" She questioned, eyes narrowing.

"I will always want to." Rollo replied with a look, "So, it is up to when you will wish to."

"And if I do not wish to?" She questioned, "What will you do?"

"Then we will sleep." He assured her. Gisla gave a nod as if thinking this over. She had no real reason not to trust him in that regard. There was a pause where a silence fell between them, Rollo had tilted his head back to look at the ceiling while he waited.

"Rollo..." Gisla finally spoke up. He didn't say anything, merely looked to her. "I wish to." She finished with a mischievous smile. Rollo made a growl like noise from the back of his throat and moved over her, the princess' laughter muffled as the covers fell over them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FLUFF AND PAPA CHARLIE
> 
> TWO OF MY FAVORITE THINGS
> 
> I don't know, this is kinda filler I guess. But we have ZERO filler scenes for them because there's so few scenes so behold - filler.


	16. Yol - The Haircut

 "Husband." 

The voice, all so familiar came from the garderobe stairs. He turned with a smile, expecting to find his wife, but not expecting the current state she was in. She was dressed in her sleeping gown, long chestnut locks brushed out of their pinned up style; yet his eyes could not help themselves from focusing on the one glaring defect. A large chunk of the princess' tresses had been cut away, where hair would once gracefully fall over her shoulder there laid none.

"Gisla? What's happened? Who did this?" He asked, taking the few strides needed to close the gap between. He assumed it had to be the work of an aggravated maiden. It was only then he noticed she seemed to be holding the bundle of hair that should have been over her shoulder in her hand.

"I...I did." She replied, seeming just as surprised as he.

"You did? But why?" He asked, his fingers reaching for the hair above her ear; not daring to go any lower as if he would further damage the locks.

"I...I do not know." Gisla admitted, "I was upstairs, with Emma brushing my hair and I could not help thinking of...of how long...every morning and night we sat and brushed through my hair. What else could I be doing?" She seemed to be finding it easier to speak now. "And why had I always kept my hair so long? We are taught that we should keep our hair long in humbleness to God, but who is to say what is long? Is your hair not long?"

A deep breath was taken, and now she would not be able to stop speaking.

"And did I even favor my hair that long? It was always so warm! So suffocating in the summer! Why had I kept it that long? And then I remembered...my father. My father adored it! He would always introduce me as his beautiful daughter Gisla! Meet my beautiful daughter Gisla! Oh look how beautiful your hair is, my beautiful daughter Gisla!" She let out another breath and looked to her husband, "The father is the head of the household...and daughter is to obey her father..." She let out another breath, but this time smiled, "But then I remembered...I am married now...my father is no longer the head of my household, that is my husband!"

"And then I remembered the knife in my chest."

"Your knife?" Rollo interjected, but was ignored.

"I hardly remember doing it, but I took the knife and cut my hair. Knowing I could...I could not stop myself. ...That was before I remembered...you in fact could object."

"I could?" Rollo questioned, and when he realized he was heard he went on. "Gisla, my wife..." His hands went to her shoulders, "If you wish to cut your hair...you may do so, you need not ask my permission. But I think it is a bit late for me to stop you."

Gisla let out a sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, "Yes...I suppose I have no choice but to continue now." She noted, looking down at her uneven hair.

"Yes...but if you do or do not you will look beautiful either way, I am sure." Rollo assured her, a small smile playing on his lips, "You might look like a young man, but you will be a beautiful one."

At that the princess' hand formed a fist and promptly met the duke's shoulder as he let out a huff, followed by a chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys realize how hard it was to come up with a reasonable explanation for this?
> 
> The haircut just doesn't make sense. Honestly. Even if Morgane cut her hair they have wigs, I've seen the instagram pics from the makeup trailer. (Plus Clive was in a wig, I mean...)
> 
> I've actually had this idea for a few months now, I just now got around to writing this chapter, it didn't take me a year to come up with it haha.
> 
> Oh, yeah Gisla totes has knives hidden all over those chambers.


	17. Yol - Post-Epiphany

"That was unexpected."

"I missed you...you had left for the towers before I woke and were gone all day." Gisla insisted with a small smile. She reached up, running her fingers through the curls of her husband's hair before running her hands down his tunic, smoothing out the wrinkles.

"Perhaps I should spend the day away from you more often." Rollo teased, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. Gisla's nose scrunched up, obviously not liking that idea. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and held on as her husband straightened up. She hopped off the table, stepping to the side of him to smooth her gown down from where it had hiked up about her thighs. "The problem now is, I was actually hungry."

"Why is that a problem? I am sure they have not finished." Gisla replied, holding her hand out to him.

"You want to go back?" Rollo asked, his brow creasing as he looked from his wife towards where he knew the mainhall to be.

"Why would we not? It is the feast of epiphany." Gisla reasoned.

"Gisla...my wife." Rollo stepped closer to her, "I know myself very well in certain situations...and I believe I have grown to know you...and I know that every one of those people are very aware of what just occurred." He explained, giving a small smile.

"Yes, what is the problem?" Gisla questioned, raising a brow. Rollo's face fell.

"One of them is your father and another is a priest!" Rollo exclaimed.

"And you are my husband!" Gisla replied, "And when I did not wish for you to be my husband, when I was forced to marry you, unable to communicate with you, fearful for my life; my father forced it, Count Odo encouraged it, the others complacently allowed it, and the priest officiated it! As far as I am aware, what they just heard is what they wished for months ago. They brought it upon themselves."

A silence fell between them as Rollo studied his wife's features and she stoically held her position. Silently he reached forward and took her hand in his, raising a brow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I enjoyed the scene before this; it always felt a little out of character for Gisla so I wanted to give some justification for it.
> 
> It's a quickie...(appropriate....badumtsssssss.)


End file.
